


What Happens in Vegas

by alocalband



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Coming Out, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 22:26:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19029181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alocalband/pseuds/alocalband
Summary: “’What happens in Vegas,’ am I right?” Tyler grins and takes another swig of his beer.Jamie is just sober enough to know the next words out of his mouth are a bad idea, and just drunk enough to say them anyway. “Hey, does that mean-- Like, if I were to tell you something while we’re here, we could just leave it behind when we get back to Dallas? Just, you know, pretend I never said it?”





	What Happens in Vegas

**Author's Note:**

> Because the guys were all in Las Vegas together recently and I needed to break through some writer's block. [Also on tumblr.](https://alocalband.tumblr.com/post/185250645545/what-happens-in-vegas-bennguin-3k-mature-also-on)

A few of the boys are still lounging around the pool even though the party’s died down. The rest of them drunkenly found their way into Jamie’s hotel room for video games and more drinking.

Jamie is loose and content on the bed, leaning back against the headboard. It’s the first time since the game seven double overtime loss that he hasn’t felt like throwing himself off a cliff, and he’s indulging the feeling. Drinking whatever shitty beer one of the guys hands him, watching Dicky absolutely mop the floor with Brett in Madden, letting Tyler be overly handsy and obnoxious beside him as he chirps the boys a little too loudly.

Eventually everyone breaks off to find their own fun. The sun’s still up, but they’ve been at it all day, so Jamie honestly wouldn’t mind just putting on a movie and then sleeping all the way up to their flight back tomorrow.

Tyler ends up the last one in the room with him, still sitting on the bed beside each other, as Janny determinedly heads out the door on his way to an ill-advised hookup that Tyler won’t stop falling all over himself laughing about.

Once Tyler’s able to catch his breath, he snorts and shrugs. “Well. ’What happens in Vegas,’ am I right?” he grins and takes another swig of his beer.

Jamie is just sober enough to know the next words out of his mouth are a bad idea, and just drunk enough to say them anyway. “Hey, does that mean-- Like, if I were to tell you something while we’re here, we could just leave it behind when we get back to Dallas? Just, you know, pretend I never said it?”

Tyler laughs again and nudges Jamie with his elbow, raising a crooked eyebrow. “This you asking for a free pass to rip me a new one? Go for it, man, I can take it.”

Jamie frowns. “What would I want to lay into you for?”

“I don’t know. Lack of scoring? Snagging the last beer?” He raises said beer up for emphasis, and then knocks back the rest of it.

“If I’m pissed at anyone for lack of scoring, Seggy, it’s myself.”

The change in Tyler’s expression at that is immediate, from drunken goofball to Serious Business Alternate Captain mode in .2 seconds flat. Jamie’s kind of in awe of the way the look highlights just how much Tyler’s grown up in the years since he got to Dallas.

“Hey man, we talked about this. We both had slumps. And we both did a lot of good shit too. If you start beating up on yourself again, I swear I’m gonna--”

“No, Segs, I’m not-- I’m good. You don’t have to worry.”

An easy smile tugs at Tyler’s lips as he slips right back into being pleasantly inebriated and carefree, slinging an arm around Jamie’s shoulders as if to emphasize that. “I always worry about you, Chubbs.”

He says it so casually that the words really shouldn’t make Jamie feel like he just got run into the boards.

But that breathless, helpless feeling that Tyler always manages to inspire in Jamie without even trying doesn’t excuse what Jamie does next.

“I’m gay,” he says.

Because he’s an idiot.

Tyler blinks dumbly at him for a couple seconds, and then starts to laugh.

And then abruptly stops when he sees Jamie is obviously not gonna be laughing with him.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, pulling his arm off of Jamie’s shoulders.

Jamie swallows thickly at the loss of its comforting weight, wondering if that’s his answer to the unspoken question of, _Is that okay? Are we still good?_ He suddenly feels a lot more sober than he did thirty seconds ago.

“Stays in Vegas,” he reiterates, trying not to pass out in fear of how the rest of this conversation is going to go. Why the fuck did he finally say it out loud. And to _Tyler_ of all people, the one guy it would pretty much devastate Jamie to get a bad reaction to this from.

Tyler puts both hands up, wide-eyed. “Of course! I wouldn’t-- fuck, are you actually serious right now? Chubbs, it’s been years. And you never--”

“It’s the NHL, Segs,” he interrupts. “And with the C... Obviously none of the guys can know.”

“They wouldn’t--”

“You don’t know that.”

Tyler looks down at his now empty beer bottle, picking at the peeling label for a long moment.

The prolonged silence is doing nothing to help Jamie’s looming panic attack. “Look, if you’re uncomfortable, it’s fine.” It’s really not, but Jamie is used to hiding heartache. “Like I said, we’re gonna pretend this whole conversation never happened, right? Nothing has to change.”

God, he hopes nothing changes. It would fucking break him if Seggy started treating him differently because of this. Damn it, why did he open his mouth at all?

Tyler’s eyes are still downcast. But then he sighs and leans over to set the beer bottle on the night stand. When he straightens, he locks his gaze with Jamie’s, his expression almost solemn. “Are you seeing anyone?”

The question catches Jamie off guard. He frowns, his brow furrowed in confusion. “No?”

Tyler nods once, decisive. And then leans in and kisses him.

To say Jamie is shocked would be an understatement. His whole body locks up, frozen, and his thoughts stutter to a halt. He doesn’t even have the presence of mind to catalogue the feeling of Tyler’s lips on his before Tyler is pulling back with a small frown. “Shit. Did I read that wrong?”

Jamie just stares at him, unable to process what’s just happened.

“Ah fuck, I’m sorry, man. I totally thought--”

“You kissed me,” Jamie manages.

Tyler looks at him like he thinks Jamie’s being intentionally obtuse. “Yeah? Duh? And I woulda done it a bajillion years ago if I thought I wouldn’t get punched for it.” He leans a little further away from Jamie. “Wait, am I gonna get punched for it?”

A hysterical little laugh bubbles up out of Jamie. He never thought this was a possibility, never allowed himself to even imagine...

He grabs a handful of Tyler’s T-shirt and reels him back in.

This kiss is long, slow and searching, the both of them active participants moving together like they already know exactly how the other will respond. Like the sixth sense they have on the ice somehow miraculously also applies to this.

When they come up for air, panting against each other’s swollen lips, Jamie has to squeeze his eyes shut tight and grip Tyler’s hips with bruising fingers to try to ground himself.

“What happens in Vegas?” Tyler asks breathlessly, but with a sort of timid caution that lets Jamie know what he’s really asking.

“It doesn’t have to. If you... It doesn’t have to stay here.”

“You sure?” He’s got one hand in Jamie’s hair and the other resting on Jamie’s thigh, slowly inching its way higher.

“Do you wanna know exactly how long I’ve been trying not to fall in love with you? Because it’s been a while.”

Tyler laughs, delighted. His face is so open and bright with his joy that Jamie can’t help but kiss him again. He wants to wrap Tyler up in his arms and never let go. He wants to be the cause of Tyler’s joy for the rest of their lives.

“If you need the receipts on how long I’ve been mooning over your stupid ass just ask Spez. He’s been throwing balls of tape at my head in the locker room every time I get too obvious about it since day fucking one.”

“Good to know.” Jamie grins. And then, a nervous stutter of his heart: “So Spez is cool with...”

Tyler purses his lips into something not quite a frown but close enough. It looks a little sad. “You know, a lot of them would be.” Jamie opens his mouth to argue, but Tyler beats him to it. “Just consider it, Cap. But not now. Right now the only thing I want you considering is my dick.”

Jamie doesn’t have the chance to roll his eyes and groan at that because Tyler heaves himself up to straddle him and start kissing again in earnest. And then Jamie’s groaning for an entirely different reason, bucking his hips up against the hard line of Tyler’s growing erection beneath his swim shorts.

Jamie tugs at Tyler’s shirt. “Off, off,” he pants against Tyler’s mouth. “Can’t believe you put a shirt on at all today.”

Tyler leans back and pulls she shirt over his head, while Jamie does the same with his own. “You keep your hotel room too cold,” he whines with an over the top pout.

Jamie gives him an unimpressed look. “You’re from Canada. You make a living being on ice.”

“Okay, okay, quit fucking chirping me and get naked already,” he says around laughter, like he’s never had this much fun. Jamie feels the same way. Being turned on while making fun of each other is a unique concept for him in the bedroom and he doesn’t know why it’s never been like this before. Maybe because he’s never had sex with someone who was a friend first.

Tyler rolls off of him so he can take off his shorts and then toss them clear across the room while Jamie eases out of his own. When Tyler turns back to face him, Jamie pounces and pins him to the bed with all of his weight.

“God that’s hot,” Tyler breathes, pupils blown.

Jamie grinds down into him, causing Tyler to close his eyes and throw his head back with a low groan. Then Jamie reaches down between them and takes them both in hand.

There is always something about watching Tyler without clothes on that feels like watching a performance. He is so fully aware when even a random phone’s camera is nearby, or where everyone’s eyes are immediately drawn whether they want to be or not. But it is very much a show, even at his most relaxed. Like he’s certain that no one in proximity would ever look at him as more than what he wants them to see: something to admire, to covet, to _watch_.

This is different. This feels like the show is just for Jamie’s eyes alone, and if anyone else were to try to intrude, everything about Tyler would shift. This is a Tyler just for the two of them. A Tyler that knows that Jamie’s lust is about more than just his body.

Neither of them last long, and thank god because Jamie’s embarrassingly hard just from getting to put his dick anywhere near those abs.

Tyler comes with a choked off shout. Jamie is so surprised by the fact that he goes first, and so turned on by the face Tyler makes, that he’s coming himself seconds later.

Tyler strokes him through the aftershocks. And when Jamie starts to softly whine at the overstimulation, he shimmies up the bed until they’re face to face, heads lying on the same pillow.

For a long moment the only sounds are their labored breaths and the muted noise of the strip outside the hotel room window. The further from the high of his orgasm Jamie gets, the more worried he is about what’s going through Tyler’s head. He admitted to an attraction to Jamie, but that doesn’t mean...

“...Hey,” Tyler says, oddly cautious, like he’s dipping his toes into water he’s already certain will be too cold.

“Uh, hey,” Jamie shoots back on reflex, a little too short for the situation, a little too closed off just on instinct. Shit. He can feel the air in the room shift to something wary, and this whole thing is about to get blamed on alcohol and fucking _Vegas_ , isn’t it?

Tyler studies Jamie’s left shoulder for a long moment, pointedly not meeting his eyes. And then he rolls over so he’s on his back, several inches of space between them. He keeps his gaze on the ceiling as he says, evenly, “Okay. So. I’m gonna go.”

Jamie reaches out for him before he can second guess himself, wrapping a hand around Tyler’s tattooed forearm to keep him from getting out of bed. “Wait.”

“It’s fine, man. We don’t have to--”

“You said ‘since day one.’”

Tyler swallows thickly. “I did. And you said ‘falling in love.’”

Jamie nods. “I did.”

A small smile starts to tug at the edge of Tyler’s lips, and he does a poor job of tamping it down. “Well then I guess I’m not going anywhere, am I?”

His tone is amused and hopeful, but there’s enough of a question in his eyes that Jamie feels the need to confirm what he now suspects is true. He pulls Tyler into him, and Tyler falls against his chest without resistance. Jamie kisses him, quick and firm. “I’m keeping you for as long as I can get away with.”

“Might be awhile.” he smirks a little, playful and coy.

Jamie smirks right back. “Good.”

They manage to fit a couple more rounds in, along with room service and an HBO doc that Jamie is going to remember exactly zero of thanks to Tyler’s rudely talented mouth.

Jamie wakes up the next morning to Tyler having stolen all the blankets, burrowed down into them, his face hardly visible while his forehead is pressed into Jamie’s shoulder. It’s possibly the best way Jamie’s ever woken up, even with the mild hangover.

At the airport, waiting for their flight back to Dallas, Jamie finds himself in line at Starbucks next to Klinger. The guy is very obviously hungover, so are the rest of them, and looks like he’s going to fall over if he doesn’t get some coffee into his system in the next five minutes.

Jamie can relate, even if he’s more just tired than hungover, and so doesn’t chirp John when he yawns twice in a row and then nearly stumbles backwards into a shelf of travel mugs. He does laugh though, to which Klinger rolls his eyes and slugs him im the the arm, but he’s got a smile on his face.

“Hey, you have fun last night after we left? Or did you just stay in and watch TV like the old man you are?” His tone is teasing as they shuffle forward in line, though still a good six people away from the register.

Jamie considers his answer for a moment, and then considers John. His other A. Dependable and honest and just... a good guy. A guy Jamie trusts.

“Nah, I hung out with Seggy. He kept me pretty busy.” He doesn’t imbue any innuendo into it, his tone light. But he figures if Tyler really has been that obvious in the past, that maybe Klinger will read into it anyway.

And judging by the way John’s eyes widen slightly as he stares at Jamie and Jamie stares evenly right back, it looks like he was right. “Oh.”

Jamie purses his lips and waits, heart in his throat.

But then Klinger grins and punches Jamie in the arm again, only this time hard enough in his enthusiasm that Jamie winces. “Fuck yeah, man. It’s about god damn time.”

Jamie laughs and throws an arm around John to pull him into a side hug. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

He glances over at where the rest of the guys are sitting at the terminal several yards away, immediately homing in on one body in particular. Sunk down low in his seat, limbs sprawled out wide, nodding his head along to whatever music he’s got coming through his air pods. Tyler looks as relaxed as ever, and so casually, effortlessly gorgeous that Jamie can’t believe he gets to have that.

No, not just have, but _keep_.

And maybe even get to tell a few people about it. Have people be happy for him out in the open, instead of solely in his most rare and hidden and buried fantasies.

It doesn’t feel real, especially beneath the hot desert sun streaming in through the big windows and the slot machines making noise at the other end of the causeway. But Klinger wrapping an arm around Jamie’s waist and hugging back, laughing delightedly against Jamie’s shoulder, solidifies it. Helps Jamie feel even more confident that this definitely doesn’t have to stay in Vegas.

He gets to take this feeling home with him.


End file.
